A rush of fever and something else
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: EDITED! - During the Horcrux hunt, somebody feels ill. And somebody will notice. And together, they will find a way to relieve the pain.


Finally! As you maybe know, I've been unhappy about this story for ages. It was one of my first ones to be posted, and the beta work wasn't really good. And yet, I always get faves and reviews for this fic! So I thought it was quite shameful from me to keep this story like that...

For those of you who come here for the first time, this story takes place during the Horcrux hunt, before Ron leaves, and it's told from his POV.

Many thanks to **exartemarte** for the heavy editing. I changed some tiny things in the story itself, but I hope it's way better and more enjoyable now.

And thanks to you for giving this a second read! ;D

Dessi

**Disclaimer: All JK Rowling, and I'm not making any money out of this.**

* * *

**A rush of fever and something else**

The rain was beating down against the tent; I could see streams of water running down the canvas outside. A bolt of lightning lit the sky and thunder sounded like the crack of giant knuckles. The wind was relentless and bloody cold. And my insides growled. There were fifteen minutes left before the start of my watch. However, the girl sitting at the entrance of the tent with her nose stuck in a book, the glow from her wand the only comfort in the darkness, had done enough to deserve to be relieved fifteen minutes early.

'Hey,' I said, dropping myself next to Hermione, who jumped at my sudden appearance, 'go to sleep.'

Hermione checked her watch. I noticed she looked pale, though not because of my presence or anything like that, and she was shivering despite wearing so many jumpers she could barely move her arms.

'It's three forty-five. It's not your turn yet,' Hermione replied, trying to suppress the chattering of her teeth.

'It doesn't matter. I... can't sleep, anyway,' I assured her, looking at her in concern. 'Are you all right?'

'Fine. But it's still my shift, Ron, why don't you go back to bed, and I ─'

'Are you sure you're fine?' I insisted, barely listening. 'You don't look it.'

'I said I'm fine, Ron!' She slammed her hand on the book.

'Don't yell.'

'Honestly, Ron, get back to ─'

'I'm not going back to bed; you can go to bed now or put up with me for ten minutes,' I said firmly, lounging against a pole and wrapping my cloak around me.

Hermione seemed about to smile, but cleared her throat and shrugged, her attention returning to her book.

A minute or so went by before I asked just how many jumpers she was wearing.

'I beg your pardon?' Hermione raised her eyebrows.

'It's just that... you're shivering, Hermione.'

'Well, it's freezing, and the jumpers are too thin... What is it to you?' She was definitely getting upset.

'Maybe you've got a temperature. Let me see.' I stretched out a hand to touch her forehead, but she stopped me.

'I'm fine, Ron, F – I – N – E, fine.' She glanced at her watch. 'You won, it's your shift.'

Hermione released my arm brusquely, stood up and escaped into the tent, giving me a furious glare.

I sighed, illuminating my wand and peering through the heavy rain. She was so stubborn. And I liked her stubbornness, even though we argued because I was quite stubborn myself. I have to admit I like the bickering of stubbornness-es. But I rather wanted her to agree with me, to be fine with me, because it was nicer. And this tense atmosphere wasn't doing any of us any favours. I felt stressed, without good reason. Sometimes things looked very wrong to me, and it upset me when Harry and Hermione didn't see it. But when I got back to normal, I saw only Hermione doing her best for us, making things a bit more bearable, and I wanted her to know that I liked her, her way of bossing me around and the way she took care of everyone she loved, and I wanted to ease her fever, because she was ill. I knew it even if she didn't.

With the dawn, the rain slowed to a drizzle and I got ready to sleep once more after Harry relieved me.

Before closing my eyes and abandoning myself to the nightmares, I turned to Hermione, whose bed was level with mine. She was breathing heavily, and her forehead was red.

* * *

In the morning, Harry and I were having our usual breakfast of tea and stale bread as Hermione sat in the entrance, on guard. 'Er, Harry …' I said quietly, so that she wouldn't hear, 'I think Hermione... she needs to rest.'

'What?' he asked, puzzled.

'I believe she's ill,' I whispered.

'Ill... She didn't say anything,' said Harry, looking at Hermione's back.

'No... But she looks feverish, you know… Well, with seven brothers, I've kind of learnt to spot the signs,' I explained. It was true: my mother always knew when we were about to get ill by the look of our faces. 'She says she's fine, but... we've got find out for sure, because… maybe she's denying it ─'

'What are you two whispering about?' enquired Hermione suspiciously. She had come inside and was standing right behind Harry.

I shook my head almost unnoticeably to warn Harry not to mention the topic openly.

'Um, nothing, just... this horrible weather…' Harry commented casually. 'We should try somewhere else because it's likely to make someone ill, don't you think?'

Harry forced a laugh, looking to me for help, and I nodded. Hermione looked at us disconcerted.

'And…' Harry went on doubtfully, 'er … I've noticed your face is red. Are you hot?'

'No, I'm fine,' replied Hermione, impassive.

'Are you sure you're not running a fever?'

Hermione suddenly understood and glared at me.

'Ron, stop saying I'm ill!' she said. 'I'm not!'

'Then why the bloody hell are your cheeks burning? The dark rings under your eyes reach your jaw and you're shaking like a leaf despite the twenty sweaters!' I retorted, angry with her pigheadedness ─ it was at moments like this that she really drove me up the wall ─ 'I know the signs, Hermione!'

Hermione's eyes glinted with more than annoyance.

'I had no idea you were practising to be a Healer, Ron. I'm going to the loo, if you've finished your diagnosis,' she said pointedly, before leaving and locking herself in.

'It's useless,' said Harry, shaking his head in defeat. 'She won't admit she's sick, and we can't force her to go to bed.'

'Don't say that,' I admonished, shivering. Every small thing that went wrong was a danger, lost and secluded as we were. Even more so if it happened to Hermione. She was strong, but she was also a girl unused to ill health. She was my girl. Well, actually, she wasn't. And I was afraid she never would be.

* * *

That day, Harry and I kept an eye on Hermione as best as we could, and a couple of times we suggested taking her temperature, which she angrily refused.

'We've got to do something, Harry,' I said. We were picking some wild fruits and fungus for dinner. 'I bet she's acting like this just to show she's stronger than we think, but if she gets worse … We won't be able to treat her if she gets really ill, you know.'

'Yeah, you're right. What can we do?'

'We have to get her to admit it, to accept that she's not well, and understand that we won't be upset if she has to stay in bed,' I replied, summoning a few wet berries.

'What I think, 'said Harry, 'is that she thinks we'd be disappointed in her if she had rest.' He pulled up his hood as the drizzle started again.

'Women… They're all crazy,' I observed bitterly.

* * *

That night, I woke up early once again for my turn on watch. I had a plan. It might be cruel – I was still unsure how far I could go – but if she felt nothing for me, then it wouldn't be cruel at all, except perhaps to me, and if she did feel something… Well, heaven knew how happy I'd be. But that was beside the point.

As expected, she almost jumped, wand in hand, when I appeared and sat down next to her.

'Oh, it's you. You're early again,' she said. She was in a bad mood, but I didn't care.

'Hermione ─'

'Look, Ron, if you've come to carry on pestering me and telling me I'm ill, you can go─'

'No. I came to apologize, Hermione. I'm sorry if I upset you; I didn't mean to. Harry and I were just worried, but we believe you, and I realize I've been rude to you.'

I had to chew my tongue to say that.

She looked at me strangely. Even in the dim light I could see she still was flushed and shaky.

'It's all right,' was all she said. A couple of minutes passed, in which she carried on gazing at her book, and I stared at her, forgetting about my plan. I couldn't help it. Besides, I had never before felt the urge to watch somebody like I did with her.

'Can't sleep again?' she asked.

She surprised me, but even so, I noticed the change in her voice.

'Actually, no.'

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. It was a trick, just a trick. I wouldn't be doing anything I would regret later, I repeated to myself. But would I be able to just stop there?

'Hermione?'

'Yes?'

'I want to... want to tell you...' I forced my hand to gently touch her cheeks.

That was all I needed, I thought. But there were both triumph and alarm in my head: triumph because I had overcome her in her refusal, and knew for sure she was ill, and alarm for that same reason.

'What, Ron?' asked Hermione, mesmerized. Her expression made me wander off track for a moment, and I felt more scared. She was expecting something to happen. I pulled back.

'That you're boiling hot.' I frowned. 'Hermione, why don't you admit you're not feeling well? You're allowed to be ill; you're not a super hero─'

She pushed my hand away angrily and stood up.

'Leave me alone, Ron! Was that it, then? Was that your apology? You're so... you're so... ah.'

'Hermione!' I shouted, and tried to catch her. She had fainted.

'Harry, wake up, Harry!' I went on shouting, lifting Hermione in my arms and carrying her to her bunk bed.

'What's wrong?' replied Harry, jumping out of his bed.

'Bring some wet rags and... I dunno, water! Do something!' I kept saying.

The fever had increased, and we had nothing to cure her.

I took the rags from Harry and laid them across Hermione's forehead. Harry knelt down next to me.

'Blimey, what did I say? I knew she needed to rest—'

But I shook my head at Harry's words.

'It was my fault, Harry, I tricked her to check her temperature and she was mad at me, and then she... she collapsed.'

'What else could have you done? She's getting worse and worse; at least now she can rest,' Harry said. 'Wake her up and give her some water. I'll keep watch.'

As Harry headed towards the entrance, I pointed my wand at Hermione and murmured, '_Rennervate_.'

She stirred feebly and opened her eyes, confused.

'What …?' she managed to mumble.

'Drink some water.'

I held the glass to her lips, and she drank.

'I'm sorry,' she said at last, looking away, a tear running down her face. 'It was stupid, wasn't it?'

I couldn't repress a sad grin.

'Only I… I didn't want to let you and Harry down,' said Hermione quietly.

'You can't be a superhero.'

* * *

I replaced Harry on watch duty as usual and he looked after Hermione for a while, but he was exhausted and as there was nothing he could really do for her, he went to bed.

When the dawn came, Hermione was sleeping quietly. She was still pale and sweaty, but I thought she looked a little better. I settled into my bunk bed, feeling slightly relieved, and watched her for a while before falling asleep myself.

'Ron… Ron…'

I opened my eyes when I realized the sound wasn't part of my dream: Hermione was looking at me expectantly.

'What is it? How do you feel?' I asked hurriedly, springing out of the bed and banging my head on the top bunk. Hermione winced sympathetically.

'I... I just wanted something to eat,' she said at last.

I considered what we had: berries, fungus and a week-old loaf weren't adequate provisions for any of us, especially for someone who was weak.

'I could nick some food from somewhere,' I said.

My own rumbling stomach would never have moved me to risk my neck under the Invisibility Cloak, stealing from Muggles, but the sight of those feverish eyes did.

I don't know how I managed to find a pie cooling on the window sill of a cottage in the fields, but I took it and brought it to Hermione. Even in her starving, weak mood, she had to ask.

'You left some money, didn't you, Ron?'

I hadn't.

* * *

I spent the rest of the night, after my watch, sitting next to her: she slept fitfully, as though troubled with nightmares. Her breathing was rapid, and her temperature was rising again.

I tried to calm her. Keeping the rags damp, I stroked her head, her hair spread on the pillow, but she got little rest.

I dozed off in my chair, remaining semi alert and conscious of my own snoring until, eventually, I slept. I awake with a start at the sound of the first moans.

'No… no…' Hermione was muttering in her sleep, and had thrown off the blankets. She struggled as I pulled them back over her.

'Hermione,' I said calmly, 'it's cold. You need to be covered up.'

'No, I don't want blankets,' she replied, frowning in her dreams. 'It's hot.'

'It's cold and you need to keep warm.'

'No, no, it's hot!' she repeated, turning around.

I took out my wand and managed to fix the blankets in place, but she carried on writhing about in obvious discomfort. I dampened the rags again and laid them carefully on her forehead.

I was startled when Hermione's eyes opened — more so because I knew she wasn't awake. Her eyes were dull and unfocussed, blinking occasionally.

'Mum?' she whispered. Hermione was delirious.

'No... I'm not—' I mumbled, shocked at first.

'Dad, is it you?' She frowned.

'No, Hermione ─'

'Mum… it wasn't me, I don't know what I did to save the dog; I didn't make the car crash, mum,' Hermione said, ignoring me and shaking her head in concern. I had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded like something related to her first signs of magic. I would have laughed in another situation, but I actually was beginning to feel scared.

I hesitated to call Harry: perhaps Hermione wouldn't have wanted us to hear this and I should have left too, but I couldn't leave her alone when it was clear she needed me.

'It's OK, Hermione. Nobody is blaming you.' Unsure what to say, I whispered the first words that came into my head.

'I'm sorry. I disappointed you, Mum,' said Hermione, a tear glinting in the corner of her eye.

''Course not. You're… great. Brilliant.' I softly ran the back of my hand over her cheek. She seemed to change then; tilting her head on the pillow, she murmured, 'And why are you so cold with me?'

'What?' I asked her, disconcerted again.

'What am I supposed to have done this time?' she went on, now looking at me. 'I thought you…'

And she suddenly started to cry, burying her face in the pillow.

I attempted to calm her down, moved by her tears, and I slipped off the armchair, dropping onto my knees beside her bed. I took her hands, and she closed them tightly around mine.

'You haven't done anything wrong, Hermione. We... we couldn't have survived without you. You…'

'You kissed her. And you were going to the party with me, weren't you, you bloody prat. What have I done now?'

I realized with surprise what it was she was whispering about, and I felt glad I hadn't called Harry. I was torn between concern and the urge to laugh. And tenderness. I felt like a louse as tears kept flowing from her unfocussed eyes.

'I'm sorry.'

I released her hands and, placing one of my arms under her back, I pulled her closer to me. She snuggled against me and finally fell asleep. I followed her, dozing off right there, slightly leaning on her.

She woke up minutes after I did. We had slept for no more than half an hour or so, though I felt rested.

'What are you doing, Ron?' Hermione asked. Relieved, I realized she was no longer delirious, but she was still weak and too hot.

'Taking care of you,' I replied quietly, straightening up.

'Thanks.'

We held our gazes locked until it was unbearable.

I blinked.

'I will always.'

'What?'

'I will always take care of you.'

With an effort, Hermione propped herself up on one elbow, and placed her burning lips on mine. It was brief, the merest contact: just enough to let me know that she had understood my words. I opened my eyes as we broke apart and she smiled weakly.

Then she entwined her fingers with mine and turned around in the bunk bed, dragging me along. I rested my head on her arm.

'It's going to be all right.'

The heavens opened once more and thunder drowned my words. But it was going to be all right.


End file.
